


Almost Like Stone

by orchidlocked



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: And I'll Write It Again!, Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Don't Touch Me I'm Sensitive, First Time Topping, I've Written This Story Before, Love Confessions, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Post-End-Of-The-World, Real Sappy Tender Shit, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Switches, The God-Tier Take Is Always Switching, Vaginal Fingering, touch issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 07:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25346728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidlocked/pseuds/orchidlocked
Summary: Their encounters usually followed a pattern: Crowley would make Aziraphale come until he couldn't speak, Aziraphale would offer to return the favor, Crowley would refuse, and then he'd leave. Aziraphale asked Crowley once if he was enjoying himself and got a sloppy tongue kiss in response. Aziraphale finally touches Crowley.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 212
Collections: They're Switches Bitches! Zine





	Almost Like Stone

The first time Aziraphale noticed was in the Middle Ages; he was years into an assignment that had him holed up in a monastery. Each rotten, damp day felt longer than the last, and just when his patience ran out, Crowley appeared. Aziraphale was so happy to see him, he'd dragged him to his quarters without a word.

“Do I get a hello, or-” Crowley was cut off by a very pent up Aziraphale elbowing him in the face as he stripped off his robe.

“Oh, goodness, I'm sorry, Crowley, of course, hello, lovely to see you as always, but – oh,” Crowley sunk his fingers into Aziraphale's cunt as the angel grabbed his shoulders.

“Looks like you need a real seeing to,” Crowley said before lowering Aziraphale onto the bed. True to form, Crowley knelt on the cold stone floor for hours, licking, sucking, and fingering Aziraphale until the angel was finally sated, splayed out in a very large wet spot on the plush mattress that was clearly the work of a frivolous miracle. Crowley steadied himself on Aziraphale's thighs, then stood.

“Wouldn't you like me to...?” Aziraphale gestured vaguely to Crowley's lower half in an attempt to address the matter delicately.

Crowley maintained eye contact while he wiped the moisture off his face, an act so forward and unapologetic it made the angel squirm. “Pleasure's all mine,” he said before adjusting himself in his leather breeches and walking out the door.

Aziraphale was too stunned to stop him; he fell back on the pillow and slept soundly for the first time in a thousand years.

* * *

They often spent New Year's together; it started as a joke during the Regency era and neither of them bothered to put a stop to it. Aziraphale had decided to spend the evening reading in his new bookshop. He was deeply engrossed in a sordid romance when he heard the door creak open. Before he could turn around, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Just me, Angel. Didn't mean to scare you.” Crowley pulled out a bottle of wine. “Thought I'd drop by. For tradition's sake.”

“I had hoped you might,” Aziraphale said honestly. He sat down in his usual spot, across from Crowley, who poured glass after glass of wine while listening to Aziraphale discuss the trials of being a shop owner.

Less than an hour later, Aziraphale was pleasantly buzzed and in Crowley's lap.

“What'll you have tonight?” Crowley asked as Aziraphale undid the buttons of his shirt.

“To be honest, I feel... rather empty, dear.”

Crowley peeled his trousers off, revealing his gorgeous, thick cock. “You're in luck. Here's tonight's special.”

Aziraphale took Crowley in hand and brought him closer. “Is all that for me?”

Crowley snorted. “Not sure who else it'd be for,” he said flatly before pushing in.

That comment stuck with Aziraphale, but he was too busy getting fucked into the next calendar year to analyze it further. Their encounters usually followed a pattern: Crowley would make Aziraphale come until he couldn't speak, Aziraphale would offer to return the favor, Crowley would refuse, and then he'd leave. Aziraphale asked Crowley once if he was enjoying himself and got a sloppy tongue kiss in response. The angel hadn't given it much thought; it was just a brief respite from their responsibilities. It wouldn't ever be anything more, would it? Aziraphale couldn't imagine anything different.

Then the world had almost ended, and one angel and one demon found themselves suddenly unemployed. Aziraphale tried to feel it out and avoid making any sudden moves, or worse, overwrought romantic confessions, but that promise fizzled out at dinner, the moment Crowley's fingers brushed against his. The angel couldn't even remember what he'd said; one moment they were at their usual table, the next, he was pressed up against the Bentley getting snogged silly by an elated demon. They didn't leave the shop for days, and while Aziraphale found it easy to get used to having Crowley next to him, inside him, on top of him, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was taking more than he was giving. Even in these new, heady times, whenever he tried to put the focus on Crowley, the demon would dismiss him. Neither of them were particularly great at talking, but Aziraphale's need to know outweighed his anxiety. On the seventh day, Crowley left to threaten his plants, and Aziraphale decided to surprise him with something nice before trying to open up the conversation.

He made it into Crowley's flat to find him standing stark naked in his plant room, holding a copper watering can in one hand and what appeared to be an oversized cigarette in the other.

“Crowley, what are – goodness, what is that awful stench?”

“Oh, come off it, Aziraphale, you know I've grown this shit for years.” Crowley groused, but put out the joint before strolling into the living room. He grabbed a black silk robe from the floor and slipped it on before plopping down on the sofa, but didn't bother to close it. “Well, don't just stand – what have you got there?”

Aziraphale sat down and handed Crowley the bouquet of black flowers; irises, tulips, a single stem of black orchids. “I – well, I just saw them, and they reminded me of you.” Aziraphale lied; he'd gone to four different flower shops.

Crowley was mesmerized. While his attentions were diverted, Aziraphale took the opportunity to and stare at his body, taking in the gorgeous lines of his chest, the hair that ran down his stomach. He let his eyes continue their journey downwards and was surprised to see a neatly groomed strip of copper hair at the junction of Crowley's thighs. He didn't realize he'd laid a hand on Crowley's knee until the demon's head jerked towards him.

“What are you looking at?” Crowley snapped.

“You're – ah – you, I didn't expect you to be-”

“Don't look so shocked. This is how _you_ usually are.”

“Right – I mean, yes, of course, you're right, but-”

“But what?” Crowley crossed his legs, started to close up.

“Wait, I just – I'd like to – it's just that all these years, you've never – well, I've never, really – taken the time to, um, to, uh-”

“To get me off?” Crowley asked. “It's fine.” Then, after a pause: “I don't even like it that much.”

“But, have you...?” Aziraphale laughed, then stopped once he clocked the look on Crowley's face. “I apologize, my dear, I – it’s rather unbecoming of me, to – I certainly would never want you to do anything you don't wish to, it's just that, well, I'd love to give you – to make you feel – the way you make me feel,” he rambled. “I'm so sorry, I've misjudged.” He started to withdraw his hand.

“Hey, wait,” Crowley placed his hand over Aziraphale's, “it's – I mean, I haven't really tried it that much. If you want to, I guess we could.”

“I absolutely won't push the issue, Crowley, if you don't want to, it's that simple.”

“It's not that,” Crowley said quietly. Aziraphale shifted his body on the sofa and gave Crowley some time to think. “Just feels, you know. Too much.”

“Too much?”

“Too-” Crowley gestured to his lower half, “-open. Too intense.”

“Ahh.” Aziraphale hummed in agreement. “It's certainly quite sensitive.”

“Yeah, and...”

“And?”

“I don't know. Until the other day,” Crowley ran his hands through his hair and exhaled forcefully, “I never really knew.”

“Never really knew what?”

“How you felt about, you know.”

“I suppose you're right, I've been so selfish all these years, of course you didn't know I wanted to reciprocate such-”

“No, I mean. About,” Crowley looked down, “about us.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Aziraphale said slowly, the understanding dawning on him, “yes, of course! I've loved you all along, and I apologize, I wasn't able to say it until, well, until we were a bit more free – but yes, Crowley, yes. I have absolutely always loved you, so dearly.”

Crowley's face was quite red now, and he was shooting glances at Aziraphale. “Yeah,” was all he could say.

“Is that what this was about, dear?”

“Could be.” Crowley grabbed the inside of Aziraphale's thigh and kissed him hungrily.

“Oh, love,” Aziraphale murmured into Crowley's mouth. “I should have told you.” He tangled a hand in Crowley's hair and returned his kisses, each one more insistent than the last. Crowley let out a low groan, and then Aziraphale found himself without his clothing.

“Sorry.” Crowley smirked, then squeezed the softness above the angel's hips.

“Could I touch you?” Aziraphale froze, afraid to break the moment.

“Only if I can, too.” Crowley flashed his usual shit-eating grin, but Aziraphale felt his hand trembling as his fingers came to a rest atop Aziraphale's clit.

“Of course. Is this all right, dear?”

“It's good, yeah,” Crowley said.

“Yes?” Aziraphale asked breathlessly.

“Yeah.”

He was wet, and warm, and Aziraphale was slow and gentle as he slipped his fingers deeper inside. “Oh, Crowley, this is so lovely,” Aziraphale was somehow able to speak perfectly while kissing him, something only an angel could do. “Is this what it's like when you're touching me? It feels like-” Aziraphale ran his slick fingers over Crowley's folds, “-goodness, I'd almost call it magic.”

Crowley moaned and rolled his hips forward, seeking more contact. “Yeah.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “You've never been much of a talker.” Crowley set his free hand atop Aziraphale's and began guiding him; the angel delighted in following his lead, rubbing long strokes up and down, fingers on either side of Crowley's clit. “You feel so wonderful, dear.”

“Good,” Crowley managed to say before his legs started shaking.

“I love you so very much,” Aziraphale said quietly, and that was all it took for Crowley to finally fall apart in his arms, trembling for what felt like ages before he eventually pushed Aziraphale's hand away.

“Too much,” Crowley said breathlessly as he collapsed onto the angel's chest. Aziraphale held him like that for a while, reveling in the experience of witnessing something secret and beautiful. Eventually, Crowley slunk to the floor and dove tongue first into Aziraphale's cunt, slipping two fingers inside the angel and working him through an explosive orgasm the way he'd done it a thousand times before.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale cried out as he clutched Crowley's shoulders. He'd started allowing himself to get loud since seeing the way it spurred Crowley on.

“Yeah, that's it, Angel.” Crowley's low voice resonated against Aziraphale's clit; the angel felt the vibrations all the way up into his nipples as he rode out the last waves of pleasure. Crowley, as always, knew exactly when to stop touching Aziraphale; he got back up on the couch and kissed Aziraphale shamelessly before tucking his wet face against the angel's neck.

Aziraphale was the first to speak. “I would enjoy – if you want, that is – it would bring me great pleasure to do that again. Sometime. There's absolutely no rush, or-”

“Sure. I think you can get better at it.”

“Better at – Crowley!” Aziraphale smacked Crowley on the thigh; Crowley laughed and wrapped his serpentine arms around him.


End file.
